


The beauty in a beast

by shadowkatninjawarrior



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Derek Hale as the Beast (Beauty and the Beast), M/M, Stiles Stilinski as Beauty (Beauty and the Beast), mostly sterek, not that it comes up much, original i know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 18:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 19,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10882482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowkatninjawarrior/pseuds/shadowkatninjawarrior
Summary: Beauty and the beast, Sterek style.It's been done before but I wanted to take a crack at it so here y'all go.





	1. Curiosity killed the idiot

**Author's Note:**

> It's pretty much what it says on the tin. Hope you enjoy!

The forest was deadly silent as a lone figure crept through the trees. It seemed that even the nocturnal wildlife that should have been everywhere were nowhere to be found. The figure moved stealthily, not even breaking the twigs beneath his feet. That is, until he tripped over his own feet and landed face first in the undergrowth. Not his finest moment, but also far from his worst. Stiles sat up, spitting leaves as he looked around sheepishly. Luckily there was no one around to witness his rather spectacular fall. Undaunted by that one - uh setback, he stood and continued on. Blissfully unaware that he had gained several passengers consisting of leaves both in his hair and clothing. Nothing would deter him from his mission: to infiltrate the garden of the mysterious castle hidden by the forest on one side and a mountain range on the other. No one knew what was in there, and all his life he had been constantly told that he could never go there. There were legends of a mysterious beast which prowled the grounds of the forest and would happily maul those who dared to venture too near. Which of course meant that Stiles had a constant burning desire to find out what the hell was so special about this place.  
Eventually he came to an overgrown stone cobble path that seemed as though it should lead him to where he wanted to go. The castle somehow managed to creep up on him. Despite it's sheer size, and the fact that Stiles was actively looking for it, some how one second he was walking down a seemingly endless path and the next there's a honking great castle right there. In the dim moonlight he can only just make out the general shape of it. Directly in front of him though, is a seven foot wrought iron gate, which intersects an eight foot brick wall. He could, of course, just walk straight through the front gate but something about that just feels weird. Entering the property uninvited in full view of the front of the castle just seems arrogant and maybe even downright stupid. So instead he decides to walk around the perimeter of the wall until he finds a good place to climb over. Stiles had never really had the most amazing upper body strength, but he manages to boost himself a little higher with a boulder and heave his body up until he's lying on the wall.  
Everything seems to be going perfectly well until he loses his balance and face plants for the second time that night. Only this time, the plants fight back, as it turns out that he managed to land in a spectacularly thorny rose bush. On reflection he wonders whether maybe he should have taken Scott's refusal to come along as a sign that this was a worse idea than usual. But then again, Scott staying behind had nothing to do with how dangerous this particular escapade was and everything to do with Allison. Dazed, Stiles clambered painfully out of the flower bed and began cataloguing his injuries. He'd escaped with only a few bruises and scrapes, but he did have to pull several thorns from his skin.  
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?"  
The horrifying, growling roar is only just recognisable as human speech as it rips through the air. Stiles jumps out of his skin and whirls around to look at the source of the sound so forcefully that he ends up falling on his arse. A hulking figure looms over him, and though Stiles can make out no details he is chilled to the bone nonetheless.  
"I- I- I- uh-"  
For once he finds himself completely speechless. Stiles had done some stupid stuff before. But no matter what happened, or what he got himself into, it always turned out for the best. He thought that perhaps this time he'd pushed his luck just that little bit too far.  
"You have no idea of what you've done."  
Babbling incoherently, Stiles scrambles backwards as the menacing creature advances.  
"Okay, so I realise that coming here may not have been the best idea, and I'm really sorry about your roses, so uh, I'll just go now and-"  
"You must pay for this."  
"Hmm yeah, see, I don't exactly have all that much money so-"  
"Not with money you idiot!"  
Stiles recoiled even further, adrenaline coursing through his veins.  
"You must live in this castle for one year, until these roses are restored."  
"That's oddly specific."  
"DO YOU WANT IT TO BE LONGER?"  
"No! No that's fine thanks."  
'Thanks'? what the hell Stiles? He thought to himself in annoyance, cringing at himself even through the terror.  
"But, um, people will kinda wonder where the hell I've gone so..."  
"You have 48 hours to set your affairs in order. If you do not return by sunset on the second day, you will die and this entire valley shall no longer be under the protection of this castle."  
Finally standing upright, Stiles nodded way more than was strictly necessary.  
"Yeah, no, death sounds bad. I'll be back, don't you worry."  
The monster just stood, a terrifying monument towering over Stiles. After a few moments of awkward silence as Stiles just edged away towards the gates, fear got the better of him and he bolted for the gates at full tilt.  
As the boy ran off back into the forest, the Beast watched him go almost sadly.  
"Well that could have gone better."  
A voice said from thin air. Growling, the Beast turned to the voice.  
"What did you want me to do?"  
"Oh I don't know, maybe not shout at him?"  
A different voice asked sassily. Annoyed, the Beast merely grunted before heading back into the castle.


	2. Actions have consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a filler, setting up for what it to come.

Back at his house, Stiles wondered how on earth he was going to explain this mess to his father, his friends. Lydia especially would kick his ass for being so stupid as to go into the castle at all, let alone without any backup.   
"Stiles?"  
Damn it, of course his dad was still up.  
"Hey, dad, what's up?"  
"Where were you?"  
Sheriff Stillinski asked exasperatedly, with the air of someone who had been forced to ask this question many times previously.  
"Oh you know I was just out for a little night time stroll. Couldn't sleep so I figured I'd just go for a wander. I went to see Scott, you can ask him-"  
"Scott would cover for you if you murdered someone, I'm not asking him anything... You were at the castle weren't you?"  
"What? No! Of course I wasn't! That would be ridiculous-"  
His father merely raised an eyebrow and Stiles caved. He never had been all that good at lying.  
"Okay so yeah, maybe I was at the castle."  
Stiles admitted sheepishly, picking at a loose thread in his shirt.  
"So what happened?"  
"I messed up. As usual."  
Sheriff Stillinski softened immediately, sighing fondly at his wayward son.  
"Stiles-"  
"Look dad, can we discuss this in the morning? I'm tired and sore, and it'll be easier to tell everyone about it at the same time."  
Noah Stillinski looked knowingly at his son, but eventually decided that it would give both of them less of a headache if they just left it until the morning.  
What Stiles wasn't expecting, however, was for all the people he cared about most to be waiting in his living room as soon as he went downstairs in the morning. All of them turned to him, with almost identical expectant looks on their faces.  
"Whoa, dude. You look like hell."  
Scott remarked, sounding shocked. In all the excitement of last night Stiles had failed to realise just how many bruises he had managed to accumulate.  
"Wow, Scott, tell me what you really think."  
But Scott merely smiled slightly at him, far too used to the special level of 'snark' that Stiles had perfected to be affected by it.   
"You do look like you were dragged through a hedge backwards."  
Lydia said completely matter of factly. Raising an eyebrow, Stiles looked between his two best friends.  
"You know, that's not all that far from what actually happened."  
"What did happen?"  
Ever the level headed one, Stiles' dad was the one to bring the topic of discussion back on track. Resigned, Stiles sat down and took a deep breath.  
"Okay, so I went up to the castle..."  
As the story progressed, anything that was left of a light hearted mood fizzled out. By the time he had finished, every person in the room looked just about ready to kill Stiles themselves, let alone waiting for the creature to do it for them. No one knew where to even start scolding him.   
"So, so there's no way out of it?"  
Allison asked. As she was the one with the least connection with Stiles, that also made her the most clear headed in this situation. Though, he was quickly coming to see her as a sister.   
"No, I really don't think there is. This is my fault and I'm going to have to take responsibility for what I did."  
"Stiles, you can't! We have no idea what this thing is planning to do with you if you go!"  
Desperately, Scott stepped forward. He was blaming himself for blowing Stiles off and going to see Allison instead. Perhaps if he'd been a better friend then things would have been different.   
"Yeah well, we know exactly what he's planning to do with me if I don't. Look, he didn't seem like he was all that pleased about it either. I refuse to let other people pay for my own stupid mistake. I probably just have to tend to the roses or something for a year. It'll be fine."  
No one was happy about it, but no one could see any way out of it either.   
The next two days were a very surreal experience for Stiles. It felt almost as though he was about to die, what with the was everyone was treating him like glass. They kept giving him these looks and he began to wish that they didn't know what was going on. This whole thing was hard enough without the added guilt of knowing that he was hurting the people that he cared about the most. When the time came for him to leave, Stiles refused to say goodbye. While they continued to act as though none of them would ever see him again, he didn't say anything more serious than 'I'll see you later'.


	3. Things are about to change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean to leave such a big gap in uploading but exams got in the way, oops

Even in the daylight, the imposing castle still managed to appear out of nowhere. Now he got a better look at it, he realised the gardens were utterly incredible. Vibrant colours everywhere, and he didn't think he'd ever even heard of some of the plants. The only thing scarring the entire place was the patch of crushed roses he'd created not two days ago.   
The castle itself was just as impressive. Gleaming white marble towers filled his vision. Stiles had never seen a building even half as big and grand as this one. The Beast was waiting in the doorway for him. In the waning afternoon light, Stiles tried to get a proper look at him but he was hiding in the shadows of the castle. He was humanoid, he seemed quite like a huge hairy man. His face might have been something like a cross between a lion, a bear and a boar, but it was hard to tell as the creature endeavoured to keep his head staunchly in the shadows.   
"Good. You're here."  
He grunted. Or at least that's what Stiles thought he said.   
"Yeah. Here I am... Hey, you know if I'm going to be living here shouldn't I at least know your name?"  
"... Derek."  
"Derek huh? Less threatening than I thought it would be. Not that that's a bad thing of course, you just look like a kind of scary dude. But I'm sure you're aware of that. Anyway. I'm Stiles. I mean, that's not my real name, but most people can't actually pronounce my name so I just go by Stiles. Stiles Stillinski, that's me."  
Nervous blathering has always been one of his favoured defensive techniques. That and sarcasm.   
"I have one rule for you, so listen closely. You may not go out into the garden alone."  
Stiles kinda figured that was because the last time he had actually been in there he destroyed Derek's precious roses. He nodded seriously, deciding not to say anything because it would inevitably end in him babbling ridiculously.  
"Take Stiles to his room."  
Derek said, not appearing to talk to anyone in particular. Looking around, Stiles waited for a servant or something to come and show him the way. But no such person appeared. Instead, a breeze wafted around him, nudging him gently towards the stairs. Confused, Stiles just decided to go with it and hope that was what Derek wanted him to do.   
Dirty from his walk, Stiles felt a little weird about traipsing through the pristine corridors, but he wasn't given another choice. Everything was made of creamy white marble and a plush red carpet ran along the centre of the floor. The only difference in any of the corridors was the occasional priceless artefact marking the corners. Delicate vases, incredible paintings, entire suits of armour. Through all the twists and turns, it wasn't long before Stiles sincerely doubted that he would ever be able to find his way back to the exit without help. Perhaps that was deliberate. Regardless of whether it actually was or not, he resolved to pay more attention next time. But sometimes even the slightest distraction could completely shatter his concentration. As they wandered deeper into the castle it became more and more difficult to see, but somehow candles began lighting the path ahead of him. When he looked back, they had somehow put themselves out, leaving the castle in darkness. Putting it down to magic, Stiles just continued on his way without trying to investigate further.  
Eventually they came to a dark wooden door with a gold plaque that read:  
'Beauty's room.'   
Stiles went to keep going, assuming that this wasn't for him, but the breeze pushed him firmly towards it.  
"This is my room?"  
He asked to the empty corridor, but got no reply other than another gentle shove.  
"Alrighty then."  
Tentatively, he turned the handle. Beyond the door was a lavish room, about the size of the entire bottom floor of his home. Well this was his home now he supposed, at least for the next year anyway. A large majority of the light in the room came from the small fireplace on set into the wall opposite the bed which crackled away nicely, leaving the whole room pleasantly warm.  
"Huh. Well this is very nice."  
He looked around appreciatively, but he got the feeling that the invisible presence had left him. Now that he was alone in an unfamiliar place, Stiles felt the true weight of everything that had happened pressing down on him. He had just left his family, his friends and everything he knew, and wouldn't see them again for an entire year. Not only that but he had resigned himself to living in a huge castle with only an unfriendly, possibly even hostile beast. It was a lot to happen in one day. Flopping down face first on the massive, soft bed, he gave in and cried himself to sleep.


	4. New dawn, new day

When Stiles eventually awoke, it was one of those 'who am I, where am I, what is the point of my existence on this godforsaken earth' kind of awakenings. Like when you meant to have a twenty minute nap but ended up sleeping for three hours.   
Someone had opened his curtains, allowing the bright dawn sunlight to light up his room. Luckily the angle of his room meant that it wasn't right on him, in his eyes. His stomach growled, reminding him forcefully that he hadn't actually eaten since lunch time yesterday. Sitting up, he was about to get ready to go see what food he could find for himself, when he realised that there was a tray sitting innocently on his bedside table. Apparently whoever had opened his curtains had also left him breakfast. A plate of thick white toast, with two little bowls, one with butter and the other with jam. How they had known his all time favourite breakfast was a complete mystery. Wilfully ignoring that little enigma, he dug in.  
There was a beautifully crafted outfit lying on the end of bed, made from what looked like a very soft, very expensive velvet suit with a silk shirt. Just looking at it made him kind of angry, chewing his toast with more gusto than was strictly necessary. It felt like some kind of placation for keeping him locked up in the castle, separated from everyone he cared about. When it came to getting dressed, he ignored the outfit and went to the wardrobe to find something else, something a little less fancy hopefully. Sure he felt a little like a petulant child ignoring a gift, but at the same time it gave him a little satisfaction all the same.  
Fed, washed and dressed half an hour later, Stiles had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do next. What should he do? Wander around aimlessly until he was hopelessly lost? On second thought, that did seem a little more appealing than just sitting meekly in his room like a good little prisoner. Perhaps he would even find something interesting.  
He opened the door of his room hesitantly, half expecting it to slam in his face or for someone to shout at him. But after a few moments of nothing happening, he found the courage to venture out into the corridor. Even in the daylight it was still very dim, but apparently not quite so dark that the candles felt the need to light themselves to help guide his way. He could see well enough so it didn't really matter all that much. As his room was in the corner, he had two choices. He could either go straight ahead, or directly to his right. Both ways looked almost exactly the same so after a moment of deliberation, he chose to go right.   
Everything was strangely dead silent. Even his footsteps were deadened by the thick carpet. Without any kind of particular destiny in mind, Stiles wandered the corridors of the grand castle. What he quickly realised, however, was that he couldn't seem to find a single door. No matter how far he walked or how many stairs he took, there was nothing but smooth white walls on either side. Intersected only by windows and the seemingly random objects. The more artefacts he saw, the more he felt as though they had just been placed there for the hell of it rather than to actually decorate. Before long he was hopelessly lost. Even trying to back track seemed to do no good, every corridor looked exactly the same and yet he didn't feel as though he'd been in any of them previously. The panicked feeling of being lost and out of control built in his chest until he was practically running through the corridors. In his panic all he could think of was getting out. In his mind he pictured the front hall that he'd entered originally.   
Suddenly, the corridor opened up into a huge room and he skidded to a halt just before he fell head first down the stairs. He looked around himself in confusion, having fully expected to wind up in yet another corridor. Confused, he turned back and looked at the seemingly innocent hallway. Could he still get back? As loathe as he was to go back into that damned maze, he tried heading back to his room. Much to his confusion he found the door to his room after only two turns. He stared at the door to his room, trying to work out what the hell was going on with this ridiculous castle. When he tried to explore, he ended up hopelessly lost in the endless maze of confusing corridors. But then when he tried to get back, it took him mere minutes. The only difference in the two journeys was... a specific destination. On the way back, he'd had a specific destination in mind as soon as he set off. But, would it work with somewhere he'd never been before, somewhere he couldn't picture in his mind? What would a castle have?   
... A ballroom! All good castles had a ballroom, right? With a complete lack of former knowledge of castles, he decided to just hope for the best and wing it. He began thinking, 'I want to go to the ballroom, I want to go to the ballroom' over and over in his mind like a mantra, and headed down the corridor. He was getting very, very sick of white by this point. Sure enough, after walking for just a few minutes, he came to a pair of grand double doors. They were made of a deep mahogany wood, gilded with gold in beautiful swirling patterns. The pushed them open warily, revealing a huge room. The floor was a sea of polished marble, white of course. What should have been beautiful felt sad and neglected. Even here, there were huge swathes of material covering each and every one of the expansive windows, refusing to allow any light.   
Stiles crossed to the window and it took him even longer than he thought it would to get all the way across the room. It didn't help that the marble was in fact very, very polished and he may have slipped once or twice but it didn't matter because there was no one there to know. He ended up sliding his feet along the floor as though he were ice skating. The temptation was to just pull the rough material down and finally give this room a little light. But then he would have no way of getting it all the way back up there. Instead he slid behind it so he could get a look out of the window.   
Immediately in front of him was a balcony, but beyond that was more of the incredible wild garden. The walled garden went all the was up the very base of the mountain which rose like a great grey behemoth. So distracted by the view, it took him a while to realise that the glass in front of him was set into- not a window, but a door. He reached a hand out. Would it be okay? Derek had expressly forbidden him to go into the grounds unaccompanied, but did that also extend to the balcony? He hesitated, one hand on the door handle, trying to justify it to himself. Slowly, he began to depress the handle, getting ready to step out.  
SLAM.


	5. Ballrooms are dangerous, apparently

One second he was looking out across a serene garden, and the next he was staring into the slitted eyes of some demonic creature. Shocked, he fell backwards. Bringing with him huge swathes of material raining down on him. Suddenly blinded and bundled up, Stiles tried to move away from the window. He had no idea what he had seen, or whether it was still there, but either way he wanted to put as much distance between himself and the window as he could. As he slipped and scrambled, he suddenly heard a deafening roar. It reverberated in his skull painfully, making him clench his jaw.   
Still unable to see, he continued his wrestling match with the heavy curtain, trying desperately to find his way to the edge. Could he really get any more ridiculous? Then suddenly, the material ripped with a loud rending noise and Stiles tensed up and closed his eyes, expecting to feel the rending of his own flesh any moment now. When nothing happened, he slowly, oh so slowly, cracked open one eye. Derek was standing over him, one hand full of material. Oh, and he looked angry. Uh oh. Here he was again. Lying on the floor, having just done something stupid as Derek towered over him. He really hoped that this wasn't indicating the beginning of a pattern because if it was Derek truly would end up killing him. Stiles flashed him a sheepish grin.  
"Ha ha- hi sourwolf."   
He had no idea where in the depths of his mind that particular nickname came from but it kind of made him wish he could find the tallest tower in this damned place and throw himself out of the window.   
"What. The hell. Were you doing."  
Derek gritted out, sounding as though he were trying incredibly hard not to scream bloody murder. An effort which Stiles very much appreciated.  
"Uh, looking out of the window?"  
It came out as more of a question than a statement.  
"I told you not to go outside."  
Stiles nodded.  
"Yeah, no you did. So I didn't. Go outside that is."  
He winced, it was a technicality and he knew it. Derek grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him up.  
"Come with me."  
He says, as though Stiles would actually be able to do anything other than that. Derek was strong. He ended up being dragged along until he could get his feet underneath him. Even then he had to run to keep up with the sheer length of Derek's stride.   
For the third time that day Stiles found himself back at his bedroom door. Shouldering it open, Derek dragged him inside.  
"Stay here."  
With one shove that looked like no effort at all, he pushed Stiles back so hard he landed on his bed. He let out a slight 'oomph' as he slammed into the mattress. Without waiting for any kind of response, Derek stormed out, slamming the door behind him.  
"Drama queen!"  
Stiles yelled after him.  
"Again, could have gone better."  
The voice came from just behind his right shoulder and Derek grunted.  
"Shut up Peter."  
"Just saying. We want the kid to like you remember? Yelling at him and then locking him in his bedroom probably isn't the best way to go about it."  
He elongated the 'o' in probably and not for the first time Derek was infinitely glad that he couldn't see his smug face.  
"What would you know about getting people to like you?"  
Peter laughed.  
"More than you know."  
"There is a grand total of seven people in this castle and all of them hate you."  
A softer voice butted in and Derek wondered just when Isaac had arrived. The kid was the only one who could ever actually sneak up on him.  
"Oh, Mr Lahey you wound me. Besides, Stiles doesn't hate me."  
Derek rolled his eyes at Peter's continued annoying attitude.  
"Stiles doesn't even know you exist, Peter."  
Blissfully unaware of the argument taking place outside his door, Stiles sat on his bed, conflicted. He was torn between feeling guilty for disobeying an order that was actually supposed to protect him, and righteous anger for being imprisoned without any kind of proper explanation as to why. All he wanted was to be back home with his friends, helping out in the fields as they talked and laughed. He wondered what they were doing right now. Did they miss him? How long would it be before they were used to his absence?   
Thinking about it too hard made his chest hurt, so he went to the window to try to calm his racing mind for once. It didn't work.


	6. Who doesn't love a good book?

Two days. It had been two days of sheer unmitigated hell, of absolutely nothing. Of staring at a locked door and trying futilely to work out how in the hell he never noticed his food trays appearing and disappearing, even when he was in the room. He was reasonably certain that he'd managed to go through the five stages of grief. Now he had finally reached the 'acceptance' stage and was sat on the bed staring blankly at the wall.  
Finally, his door opened and Derek walked in. Immediately, Stiles perked up, so much so that he flailed too hard and ended up falling to the floor. Derek merely watches him with an inscrutable look on his face until he manages to pick himself up.  
"I have something to show you."  
He makes to leave, but Stiles isn't having any of it.  
"Wait just a second there sourwolf. You can't just lock me in here for two days straight with no explanation, no nothing and then waltz back in here like nothing even happened. Look, I'm sorry that I almost went outside, but what do you expect when you didn't actually explain to me that there is some kind of crazy homicidal creature living in your back garden,"  
He was completely prepared to continue with the 20 minute rant he had perfected over the past two days, but Derek interrupted him.  
"I'm sorry."  
"And you- wait, hang on, what?"  
"I'm sorry. I had to deal with the Kanima before it was safe to let you back into the castle again. I should have thought about how it would seem to you."  
"Kanima?"  
"The creature that tried to attack you in the ballroom. Ordinarily it stays in the outskirts of the lands around the castle, but it smelled fresh blood which drew it here."  
"Oh, right."  
Stiles said softly, subdued by the realisation that Derek was yet again trying to protect him. What was left of his anger fizzled out as he thought about just how much trouble he had caused yet again.  
"Now come. I have something to show you."  
Meekly, Stiles decided to follow him without any of his usual cheek. It's a short walk, but then again in this castle everything is either a short walk away or you're never gonna get there. The doors they eventually reach look the same as the ones to the ballroom, but somehow Stiles is reasonably certain they haven't come back to the ballroom.   
"Close your eyes."  
Derek says matter-of-factly, as though that's a perfectly reasonable request.  
"What?"  
"Do you trust me?"  
Stiles sputters in disbelief.  
"Do I- No! You haven't given me any reason to trust you!"  
"I saved you from the Kanima."  
"Well, well yes you did but- that's not the point- anyway, you locked me in my room after that!"  
"To protect you."  
Even in the face of Stiles' indignance, Derek remains impassive. Which is, of course, utterly infuriating to Stiles.  
"You took me from my friends and locked me in a crazy enchanted castle and said you'd kill me if I didn't let you!"  
Stiles is almost shouting at this point, and he hadn't realised quite how much aggression he harboured towards the Beast until this moment. But all Derek does is raise one eyebrow.  
"You destroyed my roses. You didn't exactly give me much choice. Look, I'm just trying to do something nice for you. Want me to take you back to your room?"  
"No!"  
Stiles is still mad, but he wants literally anything other than that.  
"If I wanted to hurt you, don't you think I would have done it already?"  
"I don't know! Maybe you want to kill me in some crazy ritual sacrifice and you have to wait for the stars to align and make sure I enter the room I will die in willingly."  
Surprised, Derek merely stares at him, his eyebrow threatening to disappear into his hairline if he raises is any further. The stern look would have been vaguely threatening on a human, but on the beast it gets an upgrade to mildly terrifying.  
"Alright! Alright, fine I'll close my eyes, jeez."  
Reluctantly, Stiles gives Derek a side eye, but then shuts his eyes. He hears the door open in front of him and a gentle hand on his back nudges him forward. As angry as he is, Stiles recognises that what Derek said is in fact true, he hasn't done anything to harm him. So he allows himself to be pushed forwards.  
"Alright, you can open your eyes."  
At first he could see nothing as his eyes struggled to adjust to the bright sunlight in the room. But once he could see, he was struck utterly speechless. He was stood in the biggest library he'd ever seen in his entire life. Which wasn't hard of course, the most books he'd ever seen in one room couldn't have numbered above 30.   
"I've never seen so many books,"  
Stiles said breathlessly.  
"How did you know I like reading?"  
"I didn't. I was just sort of hoping you'd like it."  
At the sound of Derek's voice, Stiles suddenly realises that he's far away. Sure enough, when he turns around he sees that he has retreated into the shadows as per usual. Even when they were in the corridor Stiles couldn't properly see his face, he shaggy hair obscured too much of him. But Stiles isn't quite yet confident enough in his relationship with this grumpy enigma to make a point of it. Instead, he steps towards the nearest shelf and begins reading titles.  
"Am I allowed to read these?"  
"No, I thought I'd just bring you here to show off how many books I have and then ban you from actually touching any of them."  
Stiles stopped, one hand outstretched towards the shelves.  
"Did- did you just make a joke?"  
He grins in Derek's direction. Though he still can't see his expression, he gets the sneaking feeling that Derek is actually smiling.  
"Yes, you can read them Stiles. Any book in this whole room. Come here whenever you want, you have my full permission."  
"Thank you. This is- This is a really nice gesture. I'm sorry for, well, you know. Shouting at you, and all that."  
He turned back, but Derek's shadowy form was already gone.  
"Okay! I'll take that as you accepting my apology, I guess!"  
There was no reply, so Stiles just got down to reading.  
It was difficult, at times. He got distracted easily, and some days he couldn't even read a single word without wanting to jump up and do something else. But he genuinely enjoyed reading. He liked mystery books the best. Suddenly life at the castle had just gotten a whole lot more bearable.


	7. Ghosts in the walls

What it takes him a few days to realise, however, is that Derek has somehow developed a habit of watching him. He would stick to the shadows, and never say anything, but it was sort of beginning to bug him. As much as the library full of amazing books had lifted his mood, it wasn't a substitute for actual human company. Or, well, as close to human as he was going to get in this place. Three days into his allowance into the library, Stiles had had enough.   
"You wanna come join me, or are you just going to stand there like the creepy stalker you are?"  
"I'm not a stalker."  
Came the immediate reply. Stiles noted that he didn't actually dispute the 'creepy' part.  
"Oh yeah? Well then what to you call staring at someone from the shadows for days on end?"  
"Observing."  
"Of course you do. Look, would you just come over here? You can read too if you want."  
Catching movement in the corner of his eye, Stiles made a point of staring straight down at the page. Derek even moving out of the shadows was big progress and he had no interest in scaring him away again.   
"I would, but I- uh I can't read."  
The big man admitted sheepishly. There went Stiles' resolution to not look up, his head jerked upwards of its own accord.  
"You can't?"  
"No. I could, long ago, but after..."  
Derek seemed more than a little annoyed at having just admitted that out loud, so Stiles didn't press further. Though, a guy who couldn't read owning this magnificent library seemed something of an oxymoron.  
"Okay, so... how about I read to you?"  
"You want to read to me..."  
"Yeah sure why not? I was reading this great book earlier and-"  
Excited, Stiles all but ran towards the shelves to find the one he wanted.  
"You don't have to do that..."  
Derek said, but he didn't sound as though he was actually serious. It was more like one of those things people said because they felt they should.  
"Nah, I want to. Alright here we go,"  
Stiles wiggled in his seat until he was nice and comfy.  
"Our story begins on a dark and stormy night..."  
~  
Things got better. Slowly, bit by bit he began to get the feeling that Derek was starting to trust him a little more. He still wouldn't answer pretty much any of the questions Stiles asked him, but the general atmosphere was more relaxed. Baby steps. Before long he was actually actively enjoying his life trapped within the grey stone walls.   
Over time, Stiles began to realise that the invisible presence was in fact invisible presences. Each of them had distinct personalities. Which was a realisation he had come to after a confusing encounter in the library.   
Stiles had come across an interesting shelf full of books, tucked away in the corner of the library. Reaching out, he tried to pull one of the books out to look at. Confusingly, it seemed as though it was stuck. He tried another one on a different shelf, but encountered the same problem. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Stiles was the kind of person who got more determined in the face of adversity. So, he chose a thick volume that he could get a good grip on and tugged as hard as he could. It didn't budge, and continued not to budge, until suddenly it did. Stiles ended up on his back, clutching the book to his chest. When he eventually found his feet again, he went to open his hard-won book, but it was suddenly slapped out of his hands. Looking around, Stiles realised that there was nothing in his vicinity, so it must have been the invisible presence. He had backed away slowly, leaving the book on the floor, and hadn't returned to that section of the library since.  
In his head he had names for each of them. The one from the library had become the mean one. There was also the calm one, the angry one, the shy one and the sassy one. He imagined they probably had actual names, but as it appeared that they were unable to answer his questions (if they even heard them) he just referred to them by the personality traits he had gleaned.  
The seasons were beginning to change, the fiery autumn leaves rapidly dropping away leaving skeletal trees to brave the ever increasing winds. It was a hard reminder of how long he'd been living confined within the walls of the castle. Stiles couldn't quite remember exactly how long he'd been there, days tended to blend together in the castle. He must have been there for some weeks at the very least.


	8. Kitchen nightmare

A few more days of slowly creeping boredom rolled by, and eventually not even books kept him fully occupied. Quite suddenly and with no small amount of determination, Stiles decided that he would find some way to make himself useful. Anyone who had known Stiles for any length of time could tell you that he was somehow the master of both over- and under-thinking everything his did. This apparently, was a time for under-thinking. Leaving his latest book on his bedside table, he set out in search of the kitchens. All the wonderful food that was delivered to him had to come from somewhere, so perhaps he would be able to make himself useful in there. Stiles knew he was getting close to the kitchens when he began to smell something delicious cooking. He poked his head around the door, sort of hoping to see someone stood by the oven. But no such luck.   
Something was frying in a pan, being moved around by a floating spatula. Across the room, a floating knife was skilfully cutting carrots into thin even slices with an almost deadly precision. From what he could tell, he thought that it was probably calm and shy doing the cooking together. How he knew that though, he wasn't actually entirely sure.  
"Hey, so I thought I would come down here and see if I could help you guys out?"  
Both utensils froze. He stepped further into the room and despite the sudden feeling that perhaps this wasn't one of his smartest ideas, he ploughed onwards.  
In the next 20 minutes, Stiles managed to drop a plate, knock over a basket of apples, burn his arm and last but not least, cut his finger. Unbeknownst to him, Erica and Boyd watched in exasperation, unable to tell him to stop, or do anything to properly intervene. It wasn't as though Stiles was a horrible chef, he was just clumsy, and more than a little overzealous at times.   
Suddenly there was a crashing from somewhere in the castle, which quickly grew louder and closer. It only stopped when Derek appeared in the doorway, panting slightly. Tea towel wrapped around his bleeding finger as he sat at the table, Stiles looked up in shock.  
"What happened? I smelled blood."  
Derek said breathlessly, though he was trying valiantly to hide it.  
"I was trying to help, but I cut myself."  
Stuck between fondness and annoyance, Derek stared at him for a few seconds.  
"Why didn't you stop him?"  
The question is directed at the room in general.  
"Oh, it wasn't their fault. I didn't exactly give them chance to do anything before I just dived in."  
Derek nodded and then, seeming to suddenly remember himself, went to kneel in front of Stiles.  
"How bad is it?"  
Stiles shrugged, trying to ignore the way Derek's beautiful grey-green eyes made his breath hitch. Reaching out a big hand, Derek took his hands and Stiles tensed, half expecting to wince in pain as claws scraped him. But Derek took great pains to make sure his deadly claws never even touched the smooth pale skin. Instead, Stiles found himself gasping as the sharp pain in his finger suddenly dulled to a throbbing ache.   
"What did you do?"  
Stiles asked, an edge of wonder in his voice.  
"I took your pain. Some of it, anyway. It will make it easier to bandage."  
"Does that hurt you?"  
Derek looked up at him sharply, as though that question was completely out of the blue.  
"A little."  
"Oh. Sorry."  
Guiltily, Stiles looked away. His idiocy had hurt not only himself, but Derek as well.   
"That's alright."   
Still looking away, Stiles completely missed the small smile creeping across Derek's face. Suddenly, he looked up to a point behind Stiles' head. Even when the icy gaze wasn't actually directed at him, it was still utterly chilling. Almost immediately there was a vague breeze, signalling that both calm and shy had left the room in quite a hurry.   
Stiles turned his gaze back to Derek a little bashfully, but he was completely focused on the injured hand in front of his face. There wasn't even any pain as Derek cleaned the wound gently and then bandaged it with supplies he had managed to procure from who knows where.   
"I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble."  
Stiles said quietly, but Derek shook his head.  
"Sometimes this castle could do with a little more trouble. It gets boring around here pretty quickly."  
They're silent for a while, until eventually Derek speaks up.  
"How did you know?"  
He says without any explanation as though that question makes perfect sense and Stiles should of course understand what he was being asked.   
"Know what?"  
He asked cautiously.  
"That there was more than one... invisible person in the castle."  
"Oh, yeah. They have personalities. You can kind of tell that there are five of them. I just don't know their names."  
"Well how do you think of them then? Like, do you know them by numbers?"  
Stiles looked around furtively to check for any invisible presences, as his nicknames could perhaps be construed as insulting if he wasn't careful.  
"No, actually I go by, personality traits I guess? Just, whatever I've managed to observe from them."  
Raising an eyebrow, Derek looked as though he was suppressing a smirk.  
"Okay, well go on then."  
"There's mean, calm, angry, shy and sassy."  
"Yeah? Well, I'm guessing that calm is probably Boyd, and shy is probably Erica."  
"They were the two that were in here earlier, yeah?"  
"Yeah that was them. They're together actually."  
"Oh. Cute."  
Stiles gave a little smile at the thought of two invisible presences dating each other.  
"Yeah, I think so. It drives Cora and Isaac insane though."  
"Which ones are they?"  
"Well, Cora is my sister, and I think probably the one you described as angry."  
Stiles started guiltily at this revelation.  
"Oops."  
"Don't worry about it, much as I love her, she can be a little ball of anger sometimes. So, sassy absolutely must be Isaac, meaning that Peter, my uncle, is mean."  
"Wow, I managed to insult two members of your family in one fell swoop."  
"Oh no, Peter is a psychopath."  
Derek said as though he'd just asked 'what would you like for dinner tonight?'   
"Oh. Sure."  
Looking down at their joined hands, Stiles realised that his injured hand had been entirely bandaged but Derek was still holding it. They both seemed to realise this at the same time and they both jumped, moving their hands away.   
"You're alright now then?"  
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll stay away from the kitchen from now on, promise."  
Stiles grinned at him, offering his good hand for a pinky promise. Shaking his head, Derek looped his little finger around Stiles' own and they shook. It was ridiculous, and Stiles' hand still ached a little, but by the time they left the kitchen they were both still smiling like fools.


	9. Sleepwalking

The forest was dark, much like it had been on that first night when Stiles had landed himself in this mess. The silence was oppressive, it somehow felt as though he were suffocating under the weight of it. Almost like the beginning of a panic attack. He began to walk, hoping that perhaps he would be able to dispel the feeling by moving. He came to a massive tree stump, big enough that he would have been able to like across it starfish style without any part of him dangling off. Stood in the middle of it was a shadowy figure, and although Stiles could see no features, something told him that it was Derek. He was chained to the stump by his hands and feet, manacles clanking horribly as he writhed. Without thinking, Stiles stumbled forward in the hopes of being able to free him, but found himself stopped by some kind of invisible force. Helpless, he could only watch as Derek struggled uselessly against the chains.   
"The castle. Stiles, please, you have to go to the castle."  
Stiles didn't understand why he was asking this, but the desperate, broken quality in his voice prompted him to do as he was asked. Running through the forest at top speed meant that he could barely see a thing, branches whipped at every inch of exposed skin and clawed at his clothing.  
He burst in through the castle doors and everything looked wrong. It was dark, and the paintings showed horrific, desperate screaming faces. But he doesn't have time to think about what this means. He plunges into the corridors, though his mind doesn't know where he is going, his feet continue to take him forwards. He quickly realised that for the first time since he'd been there, the corridors had actually changed. There were blackened and burned patches on the walls and in the carpet. Things were broken, and there were even what looked like gouge marks in the walls. Regardless, Stiles carried on, waiting to find what he didn't realise he was looking. When he did eventually come to a door, it was blackened and splintered. On one side some of the hinges had been ripped out of the wall, leaving the door hanging like a broken wing.   
Cautiously, Stiles slipped past it, his curiosity pushing him forward even as his heart rate increased. The room was huge and had an awful feeling to it. Something bad had happened here he could tell almost immediately. In the middle of the room stood a table. The only piece of furniture not destroyed by fire or... something else. On top of it sat a rose in a beautiful vase. It didn't seem as though there was anything in it, and yet the rose was blooming beautifully. It was like nothing he had ever seen before, an incredible blood red rose, almost mesmerising in its' perfection. Almost unaware of his own actions, Stiles found himself drawn towards it, almost reaching out to touch it.  
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"  
A massive hand collided with his side and the spell was broken as Stiles found himself trapped by huge strong arms. His instincts take over and he fights to be freed.  
"Stiles! Calm down! It's okay, you're okay!"  
Derek's voice penetrates through the fear fuelled of his mind, and Stiles finally stills, going limp in his arms.  
"You were sleepwalking. I've got you, you're awake now."   
A hoarse sob ripped itself from Stiles' throat as he clutched Derek's arms. His knees buckle and Derek lowers him gently to the floor, kneeling with him as Stiles shakes. It's been years since the last time Stiles found himself sleepwalking and never before had it affected him quite so viscerally. It took far longer than it should have done for Stiles to calm down enough that he can think straight once again. The entire time, Derek doesn't let him go, just holding him securely in his hands and murmuring reassuring words. Slowly, Stiles sits up. His head now feels like it's full of cotton wool, and even though he technically just woke up, he's exhausted.   
When he managed to get a look around the room he quickly realised that he hadn't just been dreaming. The room that they are in is indeed blackened and burned, the furniture broken. Even the rose sits on the table, and as soon as he catches sight of it, it begins to try to draw him in again. Not so foolish as to do the same thing twice, he immediately shut his eyes and buried his face in Derek's shoulder, unwilling to be enthralled once again.   
"Keep your eyes shut, and hold onto me."  
Derek picks him up as easily as he would a sack of flower and sweeps out of the room. Still more than a little freaked out, Stiles didn't raise his head until he felt Derek stop. He found that Derek had taken him all the way back to his room and the now familiar walls helped to calm him a little further.   
"What was that?"  
Stiles asked, and his own voice sounded strange and hollow to his ears.   
"The rose is enchanted. I'm sorry, I should have warned you not to go in there."  
"It's hardly your fault, I never even would have been able to find it if I hadn't been sleepwalking. I'm not even sure how I actually managed to end up there."  
"I think it was probably... the curse."  
Derek seemed reluctant to admit it, even though that on it's own made absolutely no sense to Stiles.   
"The curse?"  
"I can't tell you about it, I wish I could but-  
"Is that part of the curse? You're not allowed to tell me anything about it?"  
Relieved that Stiles had understood so easily, Derek breathed a slight sigh.   
"You should probably get some sleep, I'll leave you be."  
Derek turned to leave, but before he could think about it Stiles was already grabbing his arm to stop him.  
"Stay, please? Even if it's just for a little while, it's just, I-"  
Stiles' voice faltered as Derek turned fully to face him.   
"Could you just stay until you're sure I won't sleep walk again? So that- so that you can wake me up if I do."  
There's a moment of tense silence as Stiles wonders whether perhaps he shouldn't have asked him in the first place. But then Derek nodded, and pulled up a chair so that he could sit next to the bed comfortably. The whole event was still freaking him out, so Stiles lay under his covers, staring at the ceiling as he tried to convince himself that it was okay to go back to sleep. Suddenly, he felt a hand being placed over his own. What he hadn't realised was that he had been twisting the sheets up in his hands until his knuckles were white. Derek gently pulled his hands away and held them in his own, his large thumb stroking over the back of Stiles' hand. It didn't help all that much but it did ground him.


	10. Snow day

Stiles woke up to a white blanketed world lying outside his window. For the first five seconds he felt like a child again, excited to get out there and make a snowman and some snow angels and maybe even have a snowball fight with Scott... aaaaaaand suddenly he remembered where he was. He wouldn't even be able to go outside and enjoy it by himself because of the freaking Kanima. But still, he got up and went to sit in the window seat, staring longingly out at the white powdered landscape. Later that day when he was reading with Derek, he was still getting distracted by the view from the massive windows which spanned almost the entire room.  
"You want to go outside."  
Derek said with no small amount of amusement in his voice. Of course he would notice how distracted Stiles was, even the most oblivious person in the world (Scott) would have noticed there was something going on with him.  
"Sorry, it doesn't matter, I just... I really love snow."  
Stiles' voice trails off, mildly embarrassed at his childish nature.  
"If you really want to go outside, all you have to do is ask."  
At this, Stiles' head snapped up in a way that made Derek wonder how he didn't constantly get whiplash.  
"Wha- really? But, what about the Kanima?"  
"As long as I'm with you I can, well, scare him off, I guess. You just can't go out alone. Perhaps I should have explained this earlier."  
Feeling a little stunned, Stiles nodded. That lasted all of approximately 5 seconds before he jumped up out of his favourite chair.   
"I'm gonna go put some warm clothes on!"  
He announced loudly, before sprinting out of the room in his usual flailing manner. Not twenty minutes later the two of them were stood in the entrance hall, and Stiles was doing his best not to literally jump up and down in excitement. Derek turns to him and giver him a look that immediately stills him.   
"If we're going to do this, you have to agree to do as I tell you. If I tell you to run back to the castle or anything like that, you have to do it, straight away, no question."  
The reminder of the very present possible danger leeches away some of his joy, and he nods seriously.  
"Alright, here we go."   
With one smooth motion, Derek opens the huge door as though it's nothing at all, but Stiles has no chance to appreciate the show of strength as his retinas are suddenly assaulted by bright light. When his vision adjusts to the brilliant reflection of the midmorning sun on the snow, he wondered for a brief moment how he had found himself in this situation. Merely months ago, even in his wildest fever dreams would he have imagined that he would be stood inside a magical castle, smiling at a huge hairy beast as said beast gestured him outside to play in the snow.   
The garden seemed utterly different from the last time he'd been in it. Sure he could see out of the windows, but none of the windows in the castle seemed to look out on the garden at the front of the castle. To his right, the rose bush that had started all this was smothered in a blanket of snow. He supposed it wouldn't really be all that long before the roses were growing again and he could head back to his village. To his home. He wasn't actually all that sure of how he actually felt about that any more. But now was far from the time to be contemplating anything. There were snowmen to be made, and snowball fights to be had.  
Grinning, Stiles stepped out into the fresh powdery snow that came up well above his ankles. He grabbed a handful of snow and went about the beginnings of creating a snowman, packing a snowball bigger and bigger until it was large enough to start rolling. The first time he looked up from his endeavours was when the first ball was about up to his knees. Derek was stood a little way away, starting on the next ball. For the first time he realised that Derek was still wearing an elegant velvet suit, he hadn't changed into anything warmer.  
"Aren't you cold?"  
He called across the white expanse. Derek seemed to almost bristle at the question.  
"No. Of course not."  
Trying not to giggle, Stiles watched as Derek moodily rolled up the body of the snowman. Even with all that fur, Stiles was reasonably certain that Derek had to be cold. But Derek continued resolutely acting as though everything was completely fine, so Stiles didn't bring it up again. Instead he busied himself with rolling the ball around and around in an ever widening circle until he deemed it big enough for his purposes. He was about to place the snowball down as the base when he looked up and realised that Derek's ball was already significantly bigger than his.  
"Woah Woah Woah there snow-wolf. We're making a snowman, not a snow behemoth."  
Derek blinked at him, looking incredibly comical with his arms full of the biggest snowball Stiles had ever seen.  
"Alright, come on, put that down and we can start."  
Carefully, he lowered the ball to the ground and looked at it with something nearing confusion.  
"Have you- have you ever actually made a snow man before?"  
"Yes."  
Cocking an eyebrow, Stiles spread his hands in a 'really?' gesture.  
"Maybe. Well, no. Not as such."  
"Pack the snow in around it so that it doesn't roll away."  
Derek did as he was told, his claws making little indents in the snow. The two of them made a great team and before long they had a fully formed snowman. A featureless snowman, but it was still a work in progress. Casting about, Stiles began to look for some small stones or something to make a nice little face for it.   
"What are you looking for?"  
"Stuff to make a face."  
"What now?"  
"A face. For Steve."  
"... Steve?"  
"Our snowman. Snowman Steve."  
There was a glint in Derek's eyes that said he wanted to burst out laughing, but for whatever reason he held it in. Probably so as to not hurt Stiles' feelings. But Stiles kind of wished he would just laugh, that was kind of what Stiles did. He made people laugh, even when things got bad. Derek disappeared off and Stiles didn't stop to question it. He was too preoccupied by the cache of small stones he'd discovered hidden at the edge of one of the flower beds. He puts them in to make a goofy smile, along with asymmetrical eyes and a sort of triangular nose.   
"Here."  
Derek has returned, and in his large paws he hold two twigs, perfect for making arms. He holds them out towards Stiles, but he shakes his head.  
"You do the honours."  
Once it's all finished, they stand back to admire their work.   
"Not bad for your first ever snowman, huh?"  
Nodding, Derek leans forwards to tweak one of the stone. While he's distracted, Stiles leans down to compact a snowball and the second Derek steps away from the snowman he lobs it him. It explodes over the back of his head and he goes very, very still. For a few spine chilling moments, Stiles wonders whether he's made a huge mistake. This is still the massive beast which locked him in a castle after all, despite how kind he has been. It's entirely possible that he might turn around and savage him, or something along those lines. But his fears end up being all for nothing as Derek bends down to gather up his own snowball, leaving Stiles a little time to attempt to find cover. He is unsuccessful.   
The snowball catches him across the side of his face, some of it lodging in his woollen hat and his coat collar. Compacting a new snowball, he shakes his head in an attempt to dislodge some of it.   
The fight continues like this for a solid few minutes, with the exchange of snowballs thrown with varying degrees of power and accuracy. Stiles actually managed to get a mouthful of snow at one point, the powdery substance already beginning to melt in his mouth before he can even think about spitting it out. By the time they head back inside Stiles' hands and tongue feel as though they're going to fall off at any moment. He can't even imagine how Derek must be feeling, though outwardly seems fine. While Derek gets a fire going, Stiles roots around in the linen cupboard until he finds them two big blankets.   
When each of them have a blanket wrapped around their shoulders, and a mug of hot cocoa nestled in their hands they sit on the floor. They talk about everything, and nothing for the rest of the evening.   
Stiles doesn't wake as the fire dies down, nor does he wake when Derek gently scoops him up and places him down in his own bed.


	11. Things are Changing

So maybe Derek wasn't so bad. Sure he had imprisoned Stiles in this castle and been rather spectacularly moody at the beginning. But every other piece of evidence Stiles had seen from the beastly man had shown him that he truly wasn't beastly in any way other than looks. He honestly really didn't want to like Derek, but really it was just too difficult not to. He was just the kind of guy who grew on you over time. Like moss. Pondering this particular conundrum, Stiles wandered into his room, book in one hand, cookie in the other. A sound from somewhere in front of him prompted him to look up. Very surprised, Stiles found a tall, curly haired man smoothing down the bed sheets as though it was something he did every day.  
"Woah, I uh- who are you?"  
Stiles asks the unfamiliar guy who is stood in his room holding a pile of freshly washed sheets as though this is something he does all the time. He was tall and gangly, with light brown curly hair, and Stiles was completely certain he had never seen the guy once in his life.  
"Stiles? Wait, wha- you can see me?"  
"Yeah of course I can- hang on, Isaac?"  
The tall boy jolts a little in surprise at the sound of his name.  
"Yeah, that's me."  
"How come you're not invisible any more?"  
"I have absolutely no idea."  
Somehow the fact that Isaac was just as confused as Stiles was weirdly comforting. For once something strange was happening and for once he wasn't the only one that was utterly lost.   
"Why were you even invisible in the first place?"  
"Because of the curse."  
He replies immediately, but then his eyes go wide as though he immediately regrets what he said.  
"The curse?"  
"I shouldn't have said that. Don't worry about it, just forget it."  
Of course, this is Stiles he's talking to, and Stiles hangs on to anything slightly mysterious like a very stubborn dog with a delicious bone. But, he also knows how to pick and choose his moments carefully.   
"Okay."  
Stiles is of course blatantly lying but luckily Isaac was far too preoccupied with his newfound visibility to notice anything was wrong.   
"Is it just you? What about the others?"  
"I don't know. Let's find out, I guess."  
Already on his way out, Isaac didn't stop to check whether Stiles was even following him. They headed straight for the kitchen, where Erica and Boyd could usually be found. Sure enough they were there, prepping dinner together as usual. But not quite as usual because now Stiles can see the broad shouldered guy and the petite girl stood with their elbows touching companionably. It's a cute, domestic scene, and he almost feels sad to be disturbing it. Isaac evidently, does not as he barges straight into the room.  
"Guys!"  
They both turn around, surprised by the urgency in Isaac's voice.  
"Stiles can see me!"  
Suddenly, he turned back to Stiles who took an involuntary step backwards in surprise.  
"Can you see them?"  
Pointing urgently to the two of them, Isaac weirdly seemed almost desperate.  
"Yeah, I can see both of them."  
All together the three of them turned to an empty spot on the counter. Immediately, Stiles understood the significance.  
"There's someone else in here isn't there?"  
"Cora is sat on the counter."  
Boyd gestured vaguely to the countertop. After a moment, Erica turned to Stiles, looking somewhat shell-shocked.   
"So, you can really see us? We're not transparent at all?"  
"Nope. You look just as real as I do."  
On all three of their faces there's a mixture of joy, relief, and a little concern. Presumably for Cora but Stiles wonders if it isn't maybe a little bit to do with this mysterious curse.  
"Does that mean...?"  
Boyd trails off, looking to Stiles as he stops speaking.  
"I don't know."  
Shaking his head, Isaac seemed to be almost warning Boyd to stop.  
"Okay, what the hell is going on?"  
He looked from one person to another, but no one is willing to meet his eyes.  
"Someone had better start talking, because I am-"  
"We'd better go talk to Derek."  
Isaac says meaningfully as though that somehow answers Stiles' questions. But before he can protest, everyone is filing past him, he even feels Cora's presence as she walks past him. After a few moments he decides to go along with this, and see where it takes him. It could lead him to some answers.   
The corridors led them to a workshop, and the sound of hammering was emanating from the slightly open door. They all looked at each other, silently encouraging, someone, anyone else to be the first one to go in. Eventually the three of them bodily shoved Stiles into the room. Which honestly didn't even make any sense because he wasn't one of the four people who had just mysteriously stopped being invisible, but they seemed to think that his interruption would anger Derek the least.  
"Hey."  
Stiles said a little hesitantly, but his voice was swallowed up by the sound of hammering.  
"Hey!"  
Raising his voice, Stiles stepped into Derek's line of sight and gave a little awkward wave of his hand.  
"Oh, Stiles. Is something wrong?"  
"No, no uh, I mean, yeah? I guess, uh..."  
Turning to look behind him, Stiles gestured manically for them to follow him into the room but they all looked reluctant. Derek just stared at him with a look of utter confusion. Really he should be a little more used to Stiles' nonsense by this point, but anyway. Giving up on trying to cajole them into the room, he stomped over to the door. Stiles grabbed Isaac's arm and dragged him bodily into the room. Derek's eyes widened as he took in a sight he hadn't seen in a long time. A little sheepishly, the others trailed in after him.  
"You're free. The curse has broken for you... Cora and Peter?"  
Before any of them could answer his question, Derek's gaze went off to the side, and they could tell he was listening to something.   
"So it appears it's only the three of you that have been released from the curse."  
"Ahem, sorry to be the outsider here, but what exactly is this curse?"  
Four somewhat guilty gazes turned to him and Stiles narrowed his eyes at them all, fearing that perhaps he wasn't going to be getting any answers out of them.  
"We can't tell you that."  
Sounding genuinely apologetic, Derek took a slight step forwards as though to console Stiles.   
"... Right. Can't or won't?"  
Stiles asked with an astuteness that clearly unsettled pretty much everyone in the room.  
"I truly I am sorry Stiles, but you can't know this. You can't hear this conversation either."  
Stiffening, Stiles felt almost as though he had been betrayed somehow.  
"Fine. I'll go."  
As he steps out into the corridor, Stiles has to resist the urge to slam the door behind him like a petulant teenager. Of course, nineteen is still technically a teenager, but he grew out of his door slamming days a while back. But that, of course, didn't stop him from lingering in the corridor so that he could press his ear firmly against the door. Strangely, he couldn't hear anything at all. Perhaps the wood of the door was too thick? Shifting, he presses himself more firmly against the door, straining to hear even the lightest of sounds. Then, completely without warning whatsoever the door disappears from under his hands and he falls forward. Only at the very last second does he manage to stop himself from slamming his face straight into the flooring. Shame floods him as he feels his cheeks flushing. Looking up, he finds himself staring straight into Derek's remarkably unimpressed eyes. Derek quirks an eyebrow and Stiles sheepishly crawls backwards on his hands and knees until he's back on the other side of the threshold. Once he's sure that it won't hit Stiles in the face, Derek slams the door shut, shaking his head. Humiliated, and so very far from eager to repeat the experience, Stiles picks himself up, dusts himself off and walks back to his room slowly. For the first time in a little while he feels the same as he did when he first arrived. Confused, lonely and so very far out of his depth. It hurt that after all of the progress he'd made with Derek, he was suddenly back at the beginning as though nothing had changed. Hot tears pricked at the backs of his eyes but he blinked hard, refusing to let himself cry. There had to be something he could do to take his mind off everything. The library. Maybe if they wouldn't tell him anything, he could find a book that would. Surely in a library as big as this one there would be a book somewhere in there that would tell him something about this curse. Or at least about curses in general. Feeling a little better now that he had a specific goal in mind, he silently asked the corridors to take him to the library. The fact that he was feeling better, however, would not stop him from being mad at Derek for closing him out.


	12. Abandonment Issues

Isaac, Erica and Boyd found him there, maybe an hour or so later, growing evermore frustrated as no answers presented themselves.  
"Stiles?"  
Isaac asked cautiously. His caution was justified of course, Stiles was glaring at the shelves with a ferocity that would have caused the books to spontaneously combust, were that acceptable under the laws of physics.  
"Stiles."  
Erica, however, was rather less cautious. It worked though, and Stiles looked up, a little wild-eyed.   
"If you're looking for information on curses, you probably won't find anything."  
Narrowing his eyes, Stiles felt his usual stubbornness kick in.  
"I'd like to figure that one out for myself if you don't mind."  
"Look, we don't care what you do with your time, we just came to say goodbye."  
Boyd stepped in, sensing the possibility for an argument. On the word 'goodbye' Stiles' head popped up, and he looked at them properly for the first time since they'd arrived in the library. Each of them held bags which looked quite full.  
"You're leaving?"  
"Yep. We... the curse has broken for us, there's nothing binding us here anymore. We've been here a long, long time."  
"You guys still aren't going to tell me anything about this damn curse, are you?"  
The looks on their faces was enough to tell him that the answer to that question was, of course, no.   
"Alright, fine. Anyway, I wish you all luck. It'll be even lonelier in this place with you guys gone. Would you..."   
Stiles trailed off as the thought occurred to him, wondering whether it would be appropriate for him to ask this of them.  
"Would you take a message? To my family? If you're going through the village, that is."  
Isaac's face twisted into a regretful frown.  
"Sorry Stiles, but once we leave the castle boundaries, we won't remember this."  
"You- you won't? Nothing at all?"  
"Not really, no. Maybe vague impressions, but nothing specific. It's-"  
"Part of the curse? Yeah, I get it."  
Sighing heavily, Stiles looked away.  
"Sorry."  
Despite her usual attitude, which was still very much present, Erica sounded genuinely apologetic.  
"Nah, don't worry about it. Anyway, I wish you guys luck."   
There was a moment of silence as the three of them looked at Stiles' defeated, downcast posture, wishing there was something they could have done to help him. But their hands were tied, just as much as they had been for the years they'd been trapped in the castle, never aging, never changing. Eventually they left. Guilt only lasting for as long as it took them to step off the grounds of the castle.   
Derek escorted them to the barrier, ignoring the stab of pain he felt as he watched them walk into the forest without once looking back. He'd wanted to be able to give them their freedom from the moment the curse had been placed upon the castle and now he finally could. But somehow it hurt to see them go. Heading back inside, he found himself at the door to the library. Though whether he had subconsciously meant to go there himself, or the castle had manipulated the corridors to send him there, he didn't know. Stiles was sat in the middle of a scattered pile of books, his head hung low. Part of Derek wanted to go to him, wanted to try to make things better. But the thing was he had absolutely no idea how to even begin to go about doing that. He'd never really been able to understand people before the curse and now he was even worse. If anything he'd just make things worse.   
So he left Stiles to it, and went to see if he could plan some kind of a way to cheer Stiles up, even if it was just a little.   
Stiles, for his part, had noticed Derek hovering in the doorway. But he hadn't acknowledged him, still mad about the secret curse thing. He didn't truly believe that the answers lay in any of these books, but even just the act of looking, of researching helped to calm him.   
When he eventually gave up, and began putting the books away slowly, one by one, he felt kind of numb. With the anger gone he could see that they wouldn't just keep something from him without some kind of a good reason. Besides, even without a reason it wasn't as though they were obligated to tell him anything. He was a prisoner, after all. Now this thought really lowered his mood.   
He sulked, and wandered the halls without really seeing them until Derek all but ran up to him, looking as excited as a child on Christmas. If Derek weren't such a huge dork it would be quite an intimidating sight.  
"Will you come with me? I have an idea."

Stiles looked from the frozen pond to the ice skates in his hand, and suddenly everything clicked. Of course it should have clicked that they were going ice skating from the second he was handed a pair of ice skates, but no matter. He looked to Derek in the vaguest hopes that this wasn't turning out to be what he thought it would be, but the Beast already had the ice skates on his feet and was gliding smoothly onto the ice. His venture into the library had been a bust, obviously, but somehow when Derek had handed him a pair of ice skates, told him to dress warmly and head outside it hadn't clicked that ice skating would be on the itinerary. Curiosity had quickly gotten the better of him. This was a nice gesture, Derek had no way of knowing that the last time he went skating was years ago, and even then he had been about as graceful on the ice as a newborn foal. Derek was of course amazing at skating and would have to endure him falling on his face. A little begrudgingly, Stiles put on his skates and stepped out onto the pond.   
Somehow, he actually made it a little way out into the middle before his feet tried to make their way out from under him and into the air. Just as he was scrabbling to find purchase again, to hands wrapped around his waist, keeping him upright.  
"Never skated before?"  
Stiles' face was dark red, and that wasn't just because of the cold.  
"Uh, no I have done it before I'm just not very good at it. As you can may have noticed. I just have like no coordination. As you also may have noticed."  
"That's alright, I'll help you."  
Derek lets him go, and he has to stay very still to keep from losing his balance. He watches as Derek smoothly skates around him to until he's stood directly in front of Stiles.  
"Alright. Hold my hands."  
He says, holding out his own. Reaching out, Stiles wraps his fingers around Derek's wrists. Okay, so Stiles isn't the worst skater in the world. No one could ever be as bad as Scott. But he's not exactly brilliant. Derek is patient, and leads him gently until he gets into the swing of things. Eventually they managed to start skating with both of them facing forwards, simply holding hands rather than Stiles clutching on to Derek's forearms for dear life. A few moments are touch and go as Stiles seems headed for becoming a little more acquainted with the ice than he wants to be, but Derek never lets him fall. Why had he been angry at Derek again? Oh yeah, the curse thing. Even remembering that particular fact didn't seem to dampen his spirits all that much while his hand was held securely in Derek's bigger, furrier one. The anger would come back at some point he was sure, but for now... well for now he just wanted to enjoy this moment. He certainly deserved something good after all the nonsense he'd been through these past weeks... months? Since when had he lost track of time?  
"Ready to go a bit faster?"  
Derek's gruff voice pulled him out of his thoughts. A little thrill of fear tingled down his spine, but it was the good kind of fear. He nodded, and pushed forward a little harder, picking up speed. The cold air stung his nose and cheeks, the occasional snowflake drifting down to obscure his vision. It was kind of... freeing. He wasn't truly free, wouldn't be until he was allowed to go home. But this... this was good. Better than sitting in his room and sulking anyway.


	13. A growing fondness

Derek had a cold. Of course he had a cold. Despite Stiles' best efforts to convince him to wear something warmer, he had continued to go outside without any kind of winter clothing, insisting that he didn't feel the chill. The big man was curled into a ball on a large arm chair when Stiles found him. He both looked and sounded terrible. As Stiles watches he snuffles in his sleep, which is absolutely freaking adorable by the way. The sight made him oddly protective in a way. He wanted to make sure that Derek got better as soon as possible. Stiles imagined that if he were any less sick he would be he would be walking around the castle, doing whatever it was he usually did with his time and insisting that he was absolutely fine.   
After draping a large blanket over Derek, Stiles ventured into the kitchen in the hopes of making something to help Derek get better. He truly wasn't a bad cook when he managed to concentrate for long enough. He'd cooked for his dad for years, it was just that he'd been a bit over excited the last time he had tried. With Erica and Boyd gone, Derek and Cora had taken over the kitchen. Though Stiles had offered his help more than once, he hadn't been allowed back into the kitchen as of yet. But with Derek sick, Cora was as likely to completely ignore him, or make his life hell as she was to actually help him out. Cora could be... mercurial to say the least. Peter was... well, Peter was wherever the hell he went, doing whatever the hell it was he did. Honestly, Stiles preferred it that way, Peter's very presence had a tendency to creep him out. Clapping his hands together, Stiles began casting about for ingredients for making chicken soup. Luckily the pantry is fully stocked. Come to think of it... how the hell is the pantry even stocked at all? No one ever seems to leave the castle so... Nope, never mind, he refuses to try to wrap his mind around this particular problem. Putting it down to some kind of weird magic, he just starts boiling a pot of water.   
About an hour, two small cuts and a scalded hand later, Stiles emerges from the kitchen with a bowl of chicken soup on a tray. Derek hasn't moved in the time that Stiles was gone. He's still bundled up in his blanket, only now he's awake, staring mournfully into the fire.  
"I come bearing soup!"  
Stiles announced cheerfully, placing the tray down carefully on the small table beside the chair. Derek turned at the sound, and he looked so out of it Stiles found he had to stop himself from laughing. Somehow he got the distinct impression that Derek would not be happy with him for doing that. Casting about around him, he notices another, slightly smaller chair and drags it forwards so that he can sit beside Derek.  
"Come on, you need to eat something if you want to get better."  
His words finally seem to sink in to Derek's illness addled brain and Derek sits forward.  
"Careful, it's hot!"  
Stiles warns hastily. Luckily he managed to say something just in time and Derek pauses to blow on the soup before actually eating the first mouthful. He makes a noise of surprise.  
"This is really good. Who made this?"  
"I did."  
Derek turns to stare at him with a look of complete surprise.  
"What? I have talents!"  
Stiles answers almost defensively, a little offended that Derek thinks so little of him.   
"N-no, yeah I know. I just... When you hurt yourself in the kitchen I just kind of assumed you couldn't cook."  
"I can cook. I just... get a little over excited, or distracted. I have to kind of find a middle ground so that I can actually make anything."  
Nodding, Derek goes back to his soup, almost looking a little shell shocked.   
"So... I hate to say I told you so but... Well I told you so."  
"Yeah yeah."  
Derek said pitifully.  
"I'll be more careful."  
Raising an eyebrow, Stiles just snorted.  
"No you won't."  
Though Derek glared weakly at him, he didn't actually deny it.  
"So..." Derek began after a minute or so of silence. "You're doing okay here then? It's not too... awful?"  
This took Stiles by surprise, though he supposed it probably shouldn't by this point. The entire time he'd been there Derek had only ever been considerate of him, other than the obvious fact that he was stuck here.  
"I'm fine. Really, I am. A little... bored every now and then. But I like reading, and I've even started sewing."  
"That's good. It certainly feels... emptier here, without Isaac, Erica and Boyd."  
Stiles knows exactly what he means. The castle had always been big and somewhat lonely, and he hadn't even been able to see them when they had been here. But somehow the simple knowledge that there were three less people living there was almost like a physical pain at times. He couldn't imagine how it must feel for Derek, who had lived with them in the castle for far longer than he had.  
"So, about this curse..."  
Stiles begins tentatively, but already Derek is shaking his head.  
"I can't tell you anything."  
"Can't or won't?"  
Derek levels him a look.  
"Don't do this Stiles. Please, can you just accept this? I know, it's a lot, but..."  
Nodding, Stiles looks away. The thing is, he can't just accept it. Not completely, it's just not in his nature at all. But, he can leave it alone for a little while.   
"Sure. I'll leave it alone."  
Turning, he stares into the fire, trying not to think of anything at all. With so much time to think recently he just can't seem to keep his mind from returning to his friends and family back home. Are they used to living without him there? Have they completely forgotten about him? He aches to see his dad, Scott, Lydia, any of them. Gaze focussed on the fire, he doesn't even notice Derek's concerned gaze on him.

This was a bad idea. Stiles knew full well that this was quite possibly the worst idea he had ever come up with. But hey, he was bored out of his mind and needed to do something physical. For whatever reason, books just weren't keeping him occupied today. His mind kept wandering. Whenever this happened his best option was usually to just wear his body out as much as he possibly could and hope that would quiet his racing mind.   
He lined himself up, considering his angle. Then, he took off running. He made it to the blanket he'd laid out carefully on the polished marble floor. He threw himself bodily onto it. With more speed than Stiles had expected, he shot across the floor soundlessly. He whooped with exhilaration as he felt the air rushing past him. This plan had been far more successful than expected. As such, the wall at the other end of the ball room was coming up on him with alarming speed. Instinctively, he put his arms out to stop himself.  
"What the?"  
A voice boomed from somewhere above him. It was too late for Stiles to do anything but slam into the wall with a strangled yelp. He bounced back a way and lay there, dazed and laughing harder than he had in a long time, tangled up in the blanket. From this vantage point he was looking directly up into Derek's face, which was peering over the balcony. Yes, the ballroom was big enough that is had balconies.   
"Stiles? Why is it that every time I turn my back for five seconds, you manage to get yourself into trouble?"  
He sounds exasperated and fond, and something about it makes Stiles' heart constrict in his chest.  
"What can I say? I attract trouble when I get bored."  
Derek sighed in response.  
"We have to find you a new hobby."


	14. A night to remember

Stiles is returning to his room from the library when he notices something is different in his room. A beautifully crafted yellow suit lays on the bed. Obviously someone intends for him to wear it. He eyes it dubiously. It's wonderful, sure, but... yellow? He clutched his book to his chest, debating. Eventually he came to the conclusion that it would be rude to ignore the outfit, and while he had done it before, he no longer actively wanted to antagonise his host. It was a nice yellow at least, the buttercup yellow with accents of gold and a paler, softer shade of yellow. It wasn't garish, exactly, just... very yellow. Trying very, very hard not to think about it, he donned the yellow outfit.   
It fits him perfectly, and he smoothes his hands over the expensive fabric appreciatively. So, he doesn't hate it. But he does feel a little like a sunflower all the same. Dressed in the outfit given to him, Stiles hesitates at his door. The suit appearing indicates something is going on, but he doesn't actually know where he's going, and he is so not up for wandering aimlessly through the corridors. A little confused as to what to do, he opens the door anyway, and some of his questions are answered. The corridor outside his room, which is ordinarily lengthways across his door has changed. His door is now at the end of the corridor, giving him no option of where to go.   
"Thanks."  
He said out loud, feeling a little ridiculous for talking to the castle, but it often felt almost sentient. Despite having lived in the castle for months now, suddenly simply walking through it was making him nervous. Following the twists and turns eventually led him to a set of large double doors. He pushed them open to reveal... The ballroom. The one he'd almost gotten himself killed in, though it was barely even recognisable now. The huge canvases covering the windows had gone, revealing an incredible night time view of the dark gardens framed by mountains under the starlit sky. The floor had been swept, everything had been polished to a gleam. It looked... magical. A sudden and forceful reminder that although it didn't exactly feel like it all the time, Stiles was in fact living every day in a castle.   
Derek stood somewhere between the centre of the floor and the doorway, looking very dapper in a suit which matched Stiles' but it was a deep blue rather than yellow. At the sound of the door opening, Derek turned to it, looking strangely almost sheepish somehow.  
"Hey."  
He had to raise his voice just, just a little, in order to compensate for the space between them.  
"Hi."  
Stiles answered, stepping across the threshold. Further into the room, he realised soft music was playing from... somewhere. There were no other people in sight. Nor were there any instruments which appeared to play themselves. Which honestly wouldn't have surprised him at this point.  
"So, uh... What's going on?"  
More than a little confused, Stiles hesitantly made his way across the marble floor to join Derek.   
"Well, uh."  
Derek looked away as though embarrassed, and Stiles' curiosity sky rocketed.  
"Cora said that we should have our own private ball and I said no, but she went and set this up anyway but I don't actually know how to dance."  
It all kind of came out in one long rush, leaving Stiles blinking at him in surprise.  
"Well, neither do I."  
"What?"  
"Well, I mean, I know how to dance. But I wouldn't have the first clue how to dance in a place like this."  
Stiles gestures wildly around the ornate room, but Derek doesn't quite see what he's getting at.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Well, I don't know how to waltz. I only know village dances, you know?"  
"Can you teach me one?"  
"Uh... Sure? We'll need different music though."  
Right on cue, the soft music transitions into something much more upbeat. A song Stiles recognises from festivals in his home town. It's a dance he knows well, though how the magic invisible instruments know that, he doesn't even want to think about. 

Thoroughly tired out from their energetic dancing, the two of them sat down in the dining hall to dinner.  
"So, was there a reason? For the yellow, I mean."  
Derek went an interesting shade of red and Stiles very quickly went from mildly curious to desperate to hear the answer.  
"Well I uh, I just like yellow."  
He tries to dodge the question but Stiles is already on the scent.  
"Oh no, oh no no no no no. You do not go that shade of red because you 'like yellow'. Come on, spill. Right now."  
Still blushing like crazy, Derek mumbles something that Stiles doesn't quite catch.  
"What was that?"  
By this point Derek has accepted that he's going to have to say it if he doesn't want Stiles hounding him about it for the rest of eternity. But that didn't make this any less embarrassing.  
"I said that you were the sun to my moon."  
Stiles burst out laughing. Derek fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair and Stiles quickly realised that Derek didn't find it funny and stopped laughing.   
"Oh my god you're serious."   
He stared at Derek for a moment, his brain utterly stalled.   
"That's adorable!"  
He finally managed to exclaim, but Derek just huffed, refusing to look at him.   
"No, really. I'm sorry for laughing, I didn't mean it. You just surprised me that's all."  
But it was too late, Derek was already retreating into himself angrily. Stiles pressed his lips together, annoyed at himself for messing things up so monumentally just as it had been going so well. Finally, Stiles found something to say, something that might make it a little better.  
"Thank you. For all of this. I've never been to a ball before."  
Frowning, Derek looks down at his empty plate. Suddenly Stiles got the horrible feeling that he had somehow made things even worse.  
"What is it you wish Stiles?"  
Derek looked up at him softly, and Stiles wondered at the juxtaposition of his appearance and what was actually on the inside.   
"I'd like..."  
He found that he didn't want to lie, even if it would make things worse. Derek deserved the truth from him.  
"I wish I could see my home in some way."  
A little dejected, Derek looked away and almost immediately Stiles wished he hadn't said anything at all.  
"There is a way that you can see it. Come with me."  
With that, Derek quickly swept from the room, leaving Stiles no choice but to follow.  
He found himself torn between excitement and regret. They arrived at a room Stiles had never seen before. Glass vials of varying colours and sizes lined all available wall space in the small room. In the middle stood a basin on a pedestal, filled with water. Stiles peered at it curiously.  
"What is that?"  
"A scrying pool. Ask it what you wish to see."  
It seemed as though all the progress that had been made in the past few months had temporarily disappeared, Derek was once again cold and short with him, keeping to the shadows.  
"Okay, uh, can you please show me my father."  
The calm water rippled with a blue light, and then suddenly an image appeared. It was his father's bedroom, and the sheriff was lying in bed, looking pale and sick.   
"Dad-"  
Stiles choked out, throat suddenly closed up with emotion. Even as they watched, Lydia appeared with rags and a bowl of water. Carefully she began to wipe at his forehead.  
"What's wrong with him?"  
Desperately, Stiles gripped the edges of the pool, but he had no way to get any answers.   
"I can't- he has to be okay. Not after-"  
"You should go to him."  
Derek whispered from the corner, his voice had a strange broken quality to it.  
"What?"  
"You should go home."  
"But, my year isn't up-"  
"That doesn't matter anymore Stiles. Just go."  
Turning, Derek made as if to leave the room without even saying anything more. Annoyed, Stiles grabbed his arm to stop him. Not that he could actually stop Derek if he tried to pull away even slightly. Luckily, Derek stopped for him.  
"I'm coming back. You just wait, as soon as I've made sure my dad is okay, you won't be able to get rid of me."  
Pulling his arm from Stiles' grasp, Derek all but stormed out. Clearly he didn't believe it but Stiles didn't have the time right now to convince him that it was the truth. His best option was to just go and get back as quickly as he possibly could.


	15. Coming home

After so long with the castle walls standing as the boundaries of his world, it was a little strange to be heading back into the forest. He ran as fast as he could, and even factoring that in, the journey seemed much shorter than any other time he'd made it. Before long the painfully familiar buildings of his town came into view, but he didn't stop to let the nostalgia wash over him. Instead, he headed straight for his house and knocked frantically on the door. Luckily he didn't have to wait long. The door opened to reveal a short girl about his own age that Stiles didn't recognise.  
"Hello-?"  
"Who are you?"  
Stiles demanded, cutting her off. She blinked at him with large eyes that he might have found cute if he weren't so preoccupied at the moment.   
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"  
"This is my house."  
Her eyes widened and she gasped, one hand flying to her mouth.  
"Stiles? But, Scott said you wouldn't be back for ages..."  
"Well, here I am."  
"Oh! Right, your dad was injured, but he's alright, he's already healing. Lydia's with him."  
With a nod of thanks, he ran past her and took the stairs two steps at a time. Her words had done little to calm the racing worry in his heart. He all but burst into his father's bedroom, surprising Lydia.  
"Stiles!"  
She shrieked, launching herself at him and throwing her arms around his neck. Overwhelmed, Stiles hugged her back.   
"What are you doing here?"  
She asked, her voice muffled by his shoulder.   
"I saw that something had happened to dad. Derek let me come back to see him."  
"Derek?"  
Stiles shook his head quickly, pulling away from the hug.  
"I don't have time to explain right now. How's dad?"  
"He's going to be completely fine, you don't have to worry at all. He took a knife to the shoulder, but the healers patched him up. He's sleeping now."  
Lydia let go of him so he could move over to the bed. Sitting down gingerly on the edge of the covers, Stiles took one of his father's hands.  
"Wha- Stiles?"  
Sheriff Stillinski muttered groggily, as though he couldn't quite believe his eyes.  
"I'm here, dad I'm here. Don't worry, everything's going to be just fine."  
Soothingly, Stiles put a hand to his dad's forehead and the sheriff fell almost instantly back to sleep, muttering something unintelligible.   
"I'm so glad he's okay. When I saw him- when I saw him lying there, for a moment I thought maybe I would-"   
His voice cracked and he hung his head, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. A hand dropped down onto his shoulder and he turned, expecting to see Lydia. Instead he found Scott, who was looking down at him with compassion filled eyes. Standing up, he pulled his other best friend into a tight hug. It felt so very good to finally be back home, but even as he was with the people he cared about, something in his heart was tugging. Reminding him that Derek wasn't there. He was all the way back in that lonely castle. He pulled away from Scott slowly. Suddenly, without the fog of panic created by fear for his father, it was perfectly clear.   
Stood in his childhood home with his two best friends, Stiles realised for the first time that he was in love. Completely and utterly, and he had been for a long time. Of course he was only just realising this now, how dense was he? It took him a few moments to even notice that Scott was speaking to him.  
"How come you're back? The year isn't up yet."  
"I'm not here for long. I had to check that dad would be okay. I should really be getting back now."  
Lydia made a sound of protest at that.  
"Already? But you literally just got here!"  
"I'm sorry guys but I really shouldn't even be here in the first place."  
"Please man, just one hour. That's all. We can introduce you to Kira, and Liam and-"  
Scott gave his best puppy dog eyes.  
"Alright! Alright, I'll meet some people but then you have to let me go."  
Throwing his hands up in defeat, Stiles shook his head at his friends' twin pleased smiles. Just then there was a knock on the door.  
"Come on, lets go downstairs and let my dad sleep."  
When they got back down to the front room it was pretty much full of people. Isaac, Erica and Boyd were there, along with Allison, the short girl from earlier, a taller girl and two boys he'd never seen before.  
"Stiles, this is Kira, my girlfriend,"  
Scott and Allison had broken up? That would explain the way she was currently cozying up to Isaac. But when on earth had that happened? When he left they'd been so ridiculously in love, it would have been almost sickening if he hadn't adored the two of them so much. Yet again he really felt the length of the months he'd been away. It was stupid to have expected nothing to have changed when he got back, but somehow seeing the evidence of the change gave him a strange sense of vertigo.   
"This is Malia, and this is Liam and Mason. They moved here recently."  
Everyone looked at each other awkwardly for a moment before Mason cleared his throat.  
"It's nice to finally meet you Stiles, we've heard a lot about you."  
Stiles nodded, feeling a little overwhelmed. It had been so long since he'd spoken to anyone other than Derek, it was as though he'd kind of forgotten how to interact with other human beings with any semblance of normality. It didn't really matter all that much, Scott and Lydia were doing most of the talking for him. Lydia, he thought had probably noticed he was feeling a little too overwhelmed to make any conversation so was covering for him until he felt ready. Scott, however, was far too oblivious for that. The excitement of having his best friend back, and catching him up on everything he'd missed was his motivation for talking like he was scared someone was going to try to stop him if he paused too long for breath. It was so very familiar, and yet strange after the near constant silence of the castle. But of course, in the end there was only so much to tell. Lydia turned to him with an air that he knew from experience meant that she was very unlikely to give up whatever she was about to start.  
"So, Stiles. What about you? What's life like in the castle? I tried quizzing Isaac and the others when they arrived, but they all said they couldn't remember anything."  
From her tone it seemed as though she didn't really believe them all that much.   
"It's..."  
His voice trailed off as he searched for an accurate description.  
"It's good, actually. Derek's not as scary as he first seemed."  
"Derek?"  
Scott asked, suddenly rejoining the conversation.  
"The Beast."  
There was no reason for it, but a flush began to creep up his neck. If they knew just how close he'd grown to the 'Beast' they would think... well, he had no idea what they would think, but he couldn't imagine it would be good.  
"The Beast's name is... Derek."  
Scott repeated slowly. Stiles quickly realised that pretty much the entire room had taken interest, the background conversations had halted as everyone wanted to know more about the mysterious castle.   
"Yeah. Sounds kinda ridiculous when you say it like that, but I think it suits him."   
Stiles smiled, thinking back to when he first found out his real name. It was kind of comical at first, before he got used to using it.  
"So, what's he like?"  
Allison pressed, and everyone looked at him expectantly.  
"He's... gruff, and grumpy most of the time. Though, I think that's mostly because he's kind of lonely."  
"Lonely? But he's the beast!"  
Scott scoffed.  
"Well yeah. There was just him and five servants who he couldn't even see for years. In that massive castle. Even big scary beasts get lonely sometimes."  
There was a thoughtful silence for a few moments. For every second that passed, an inexplicable urge to leave was building up in his chest. It made no sense, he was finally home, he should be feeling more at ease than ever. Yet somehow there was something urgent tugging in his chest, pulling him back towards the castle. He stayed a little longer, regaling them with tales of his experiences in the castle, though he neglected to mention the fact that he was pretty sure he was falling in love with Derek. By the time the hour was up, the tug in his chest was strong enough that he could no longer ignore. The goodbyes were short. Though this time he wasn't going away for a year, that didn't change his hatred of goodbyes in any form. They gave him anxiety, and god knows he did not need any more of that. By the time he got to the forest, he was sprinting.


	16. The Space Between Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IT'S THE FINAL CHAPTER dododo-doooodododododo

Stiles burst in through the castle doors and got a sudden flash of deja vu from his dream. This time the castle looked the same as it always did, only it still felt wrong. He had to find Derek. There was no explanation for the pressing urgency that was constricting his chest, but he was utterly desperate to get to Derek as quickly as physically possible.   
"Stiles!"  
A female voice called to him and he looked to the source of the sound. A girl with straight brown hair was looking at him with no small amount of desperation.   
"Cora?"  
Confused he begins to walk towards her, momentarily distracted.  
"There's no time, come with me."  
Reaching out she grabs his wrist, before dragging him into the corridor. He offers no resistance as she pulls him along. Quickly even for this castle they reach the broken and blackened door. He barely even recognises it before Cora is pushing him inside. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the room, and he realises there is a large shape lying on the floor. Derek. Stiles trips on his way towards him and ends up sliding on his knees, ignoring the inevitable bruising he would end up with.   
"Derek?!"  
His panicked shout earned him a groan from the prone figure on the floor. Carefully, with shaking hands, Stiles turned him over so that he could see Derek's face. It was pale and gaunt, his eyes sunken into his skull with dark rings around them.   
"What is it? What's happening?"  
He turned to Cora with desperation, but her expression matched his. She didn't seem to have any idea what to do.  
"The- the curse."  
Derek forced out weakly, and Stiles could hear the pain in his voice even from those two small words. Reaching out to put a hand to his face, Stiles stroked his thumb over Derek's cheek.  
"What can I do? Please. There must be something."  
Throat closing up, Stiles could feel tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. Cora said something about finding Peter, but Stiles barely even registered it.  
"I'm sorry Stiles. I'm so sorry."  
"No, don't say that. Don't tell me you're sorry. Tell me what I can do."  
"There's nothing-"  
Derek broke off as his body was wracked by a coughing fit. Openly sobbing now, Stiles shook his head doggedly.  
"I can't lose you, please Derek, I can't. I never should have left. I- I love you."  
He should have realised the truth of it earlier. The words seemed to hang in the air, like they had been frozen, suspended. For a few moments Stiles found that he couldn't breathe, but against all reason it didn't make him panic. Then the stillness was broken as a bright light manifested in the room; exactly where the enchanted rose had lain only moments ago. At a complete loss for what to do, Stiles put his body over Derek's and shut his eyes tightly. An intense wave of energy washed over the two bodies on the floor.  
Stiles opened his eyes. The brightness was still there, but manageable now. Less of a supernova and more just sunshine on a bright day. He turned his head to look and Derek and found... a man. A very, very handsome man with a neat black beard and short black hair, lying exactly where his beast had been only moments before. With a yelp, Stiles jumped backwards in shock. Staring at the unfamiliar man, Stiles watched in a mixture of amazement and something closing in on fear as he began to stir.   
"Ugh, Stiles?"  
Frozen, Stiles' mind tried desperately to catch up to what his senses were telling him. That was Derek's voice, no question. So, his appearance had changed? Derek sat up and found Stiles sat, staring at him like a rabbit suddenly caught by hunters.   
"Stiles, I know I look different but it's me, I-"  
But his hurried explanation was cut off as Stiles launched himself at Derek and flung his arms around his neck. The force of it knocked them both back down onto the floor so Stiles was half lying across Derek for the second time in about as many minutes.  
"I don't care what you look like, you're okay!"  
Chuckling, Derek put his own arms around Stiles' waist.  
"So this was the curse you were always going on about! Why couldn't you just tell me? And why did it suddenly break?"  
Derek looked away as though he were suddenly unable to meet Stiles' eyes.   
"I... had to fall in love, and they had to feel the same way. If you knew about the curse, you would have felt pressured, or freaked out or- it just seemed like the right thing to do."  
Stiles cocked his head to the side thoughtfully.   
"Yeah, you're right it probably was. But that doesn't mean it was any less annoying at the time!"  
"When you said you wanted to see your family I thought you didn't feel the same way. The curse hadn't broken yet so I began to feel like it never would. That's why-"  
"That's why you were so upset!"  
Stiles began to laugh but he was quickly interrupted by a voice.  
"Well, would you look at that. Adorable. You couldn't have gotten to this part a little faster maybe?"  
Simultaneously, both Stiles and Derek turned to glare at the man stood on the doorway, who Stiles assumed was Peter.   
"You two chuckleheads have been dancing around each other from the moment you met. The tension was so thick I would have needed a sword to-"  
Cora slapped him on the shoulder with a glare. But then she turned to the two of them entangled on the floor.  
"He's right you know. And we're leaving. Headed to the village to relish in the freedom. Join us when you're finished... whatever."  
With that she grabs Peter by the bicep and drags him out into the corridor.  
Stiles looks to Derek and the proximity of their faces reminds him that he's still sprawled across his chest and he sits up hastily.  
"So... what next?"  
Derek shrugs in response, smiling.  
"What ever we want."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be one more chapter, just a little epilogue for y'all


	17. Mini Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is finished!

Stiles skidded into the kitchen, narrowly avoiding falling over.  
"Status report?"   
He asked urgently.  
"Woah woah, calm down."  
Derek said soothingly, abandoning his cooking momentarily so he can put his hands onto Stiles' shoulders.  
"I know, I know, I just want the wedding to go well."  
"You're not even the one getting married!"  
Stiles deflated, tugging at the hem of his shirt. He was trying to be careful not to mess up his suit.  
"Yeah, I know. But Erica and Boyd deserve a perfect wedding."  
Derek nodded.  
"Yes, they do. And everything is going to be just fine. We've got the kitchen on track. But please, calm down."  
Nodding, Stiles took a deep breath.   
"You're right. I love you."  
He said sincerely, giving Derek a peck on the lips.  
"Now I'm gonna go check on the main hall."  
Stiles said quickly, sprinting out of the room before Derek could stop him.  
"That's not what I- ugh. Love you too!"  
He called after the rapidly disappearing Stiles. Several of the other kitchen helpers chuckled.  
"That's quite the handful you have there."  
An elderly lady commented cheerfully.  
"Yeah. Yeah, he really is."  
Shaking his head with a fond smile, Derek turned back to his cooking.

A veritable army of their friends was busy finishing the decorations in the main hall and the dining hall while Lydia helped Erica get ready and Danny helped Boyd. Stiles looked around quickly cataloguing the jobs which still needed doing. It was pretty much almost done, to his pleasant surprise. All they were waiting on now was the fresh flowers from the garden. Stiles intended on taking a rose to put in Derek's lapel.  
"Stiles!"  
A voice called to him and he turned to his see his dad, who was hanging wreaths, having been banned from anything more strenuous.  
"Hey dad!"  
"You look like you're about to have a nervous breakdown Stiles, when was the last time you sat down?"  
"Sitting down is for later, after the wedding. Right now, I have decorations to oversee, priests to find, and... people to yell at."  
He trailed off, having noticed that Scott was tying awkward bows into the ribbons around the garlands.  
"SCOTT!"  
He boomed, causing his friend to look up guiltily.

Stiles had finally stopped running around, all of the guests were seated and all they were waiting on now was the bride. Stood at the end of the line of groomsmen, he surveyed the scene with pride. Everything looked wonderful, and the guests were all decked out in their Sunday best. Almost all of the village had turned out for the wedding. So far the day had gone pretty well. The priest had been found wandering lost in the garden, Erica's dress had torn but Melissa had swooped in to expertly stitch it back together, Isaac had 'misplaced' the rings that ended up being in the pocket of his cardigan, and Stiles had somehow managed not to have a panic attack. Though that was, admittedly, mostly due to Derek accosting him in the hallway and forcing him to breathe through the panic.   
The music started up gracefully and Boyd stiffened visibly. The doors at the end of the hall opened dramatically. Erica looked gorgeous in her flowing white dress, but Stiles couldn't take his eyes off Derek, who had offered to give her away in place of her father. They made their way up the aisle and already several tears were shed simply because of the adoring way Boyd and Erica looked at each other.  
After completing his duty, Derek came to stand by Stiles and they laced their hands together gently as they listened to the loving vows exchanged.  
The after party was one that would be talked about for years afterward. Many drunken antics ensued, Stiles' favourite being; Peter gushing to Malia about how much he loved her and regretted not being there to watch her to grow up, Parrish finally getting his act together to confess his feelings for Lydia, and Scott dancing on a table in a frankly misguided attempt to impress Kira. That is... until Kira joined him on the table.  
At the end of the night Stiles sat, with Derek's arm draped over his shoulders and his friends sat around the table, Scott on one side, Lydia on the other and his father across from him, he felt good. Finally, everything felt... right to Stiles. He had everyone he loved all together in one room and it was the start of a new era. Even the new friends like Malia, Liam, Mason and his boyfriend Corey, it felt right to have them there. Like a pack. Like family.  
So maybe he'd been an idiot when he climbed that wall all those months ago. But he thought it had all turned out for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone who has read this little Beauty and The Beast parody, I hope you have enjoyed.


End file.
